


Impromptu Surgery

by Eugene_Kline_Sims



Series: Ash’s Tumblr Requests [4]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Curt gets hurt, Cynthia’s here, Guns, Language, M/M, Owen takes care of him, Surgery, fluff And whump, gunshot wound, soft boyfriends, surgeon isn’t actually a surgeon though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eugene_Kline_Sims/pseuds/Eugene_Kline_Sims
Summary: Anonymous said! “Is that blood?” “…..No?” for Curtwen? :ocCurt gets shot and Owen is forced to take drastic measures to save him. Once out of the woods. The two engage in domestic fluff.





	Impromptu Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> WARNING: I am NOT a medical doctor. I’m pulling this information from T.V. Shows and all Biomedical classes I had (and I only every fit C’s in those) 
> 
> That being said, don’t do what Owen does, because the author is a moron.

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!  _

 

Curt chants over and over again in his head. He scrambles to keep up with Owen’s long strides. He can hear the shouts of the targets behind him and another gunshot. He cringes at the sound and the gunshot wound in his side gives off an ache. 

 

_ You were shot Mega! Of course, it’s aching! It has nothing to do with hearing a gunshot!  _

 

Owen grabs his wrists and pulls him ahead.

 

“Come on, love. We gotta stay alive. We’ll be at the car soon,” A breathless Owen says to him. Curt sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of his bottom lip. Just a little longer. Curt could hold out that long. He had to because he didn’t have a choice. 

 

When they see the car Curt almost cries with relief. Almost. He’s a grown man, however, so he stops himself. Owen fumbles briefly with the keys a bit. Finally getting a hold of them he slams open the driver's sides of the door and Curt dives into the passenger side.

 

Turning the keys into the ignition. Owen peels out of there and guns it. Curt hisses through his teeth and slouches over. Fuck, everything hurt. It hurt so bad. 

 

It took two hours and several deviated paths later for the gunfire to stop raining down on them. Even after that Owen didn’t relax until an hour after everything that had happened stopped. Exhaling he slowly took a long route back to the safe house. Curt was ring oddly quiet. That in itself was a cause for worry.

 

More often than not when they were being shot and in a high-speed car chase Curt would have some smart ass comment. It used to annoy Owen but over time he had detected the slight hysteric edge to Curt’s tone during the comments. So, Owen let it slide it calmed Curt down in a way but right now? Not, a word had left Curt’s mouth and Curt always talked even without trying to calm himself down.

 

He talked through mission briefings, he talked through meetings with directors, he talked through missions with the Queen and President. Hell! He even talked in his sleep! Curt’s Lips where always moving seeming sand three hours with no talking? That was a record. The only time he hadn’t talked was when he had gotten deathly ill and was running a fever. Even then he talked moderately. Not much and it wasn’t really comprehensive but he had still talked.

 

Owen’s eyes sweep over to Curt and he stopped short. Voice shaking he asked a question he was dreading the answer to.

 

“Curt… is that blood?” The other doesn’t react straight away and no. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t Curt. Then he jerks slightly, face pale and eyes glazed over he turns his eyes to Owen’s.

 

“…..No?” It’s like Curt’s trying to reassure himself and not Owen. His hand is still wrapped loosely around his middle and his hands stained red with blood. For a second Owen wonders how long the other had been bleeding when he passed out. Owen cusses and steps hard in the gas.

 

The only thought prevailing in his mind was Curt. 

 

Once at the safe house he stumbles in. Curt’s wrapped securely in his arms. Praise the lord. Lowering the other down onto the sofa. Owen raids the kitchen and hunts down the first aid kit.

 

As a spy, Owen had basic medical knowledge. He hoped it would be enough to help Curt. Grabbing a pot and filling it with water he put it in the stove and turned it on. Allowing it to boil. Finding needle and thread he carefully sinks it down into the water. Washing his hands thoroughly, he puts on a pair of gloves and reruns with a first aid kit to Curt. 

 

Shedding Curt of his shirt he gets a better look at the others wound and swallows. He’d been shot and there wasn’t an exit wound. Owen was going to have to do something about that. Fuck. He was no surgeon but he would have to do something he couldn’t leave the bullet in there. 

 

Pouring rubbing alcohol on gauze he quickly wipes down the wound. Finding a scalpel Owen turns back up. He swallows thickly and his handshakes. 

 

_ Stop shaking Carvour, do you want to kill him?  _

 

Shaking his head he forces himself to steady his hand. Making a small x-incision. Sitting the bloody scalpel on the coffee table Owen takes out a pair of tweezers. Forcing himself not to think too much about it, Owen starts looking around for the bullet finally finding it. He grabs a hold of it and pulls it out sitting that down also on the coffee table. Owen sits the tweezers down beside it and grabs gauze and medical tape. Taping up Curt, Owen glances at the coffee table and winced  _ that’s going to be damn near impossible to get out.  _

 

Quickly standing up Owen grabs another line of gauze and wraps the bullet up in that. Leaving the makeshift living room he heads to the kitchen and notes that the water had finally boiled. Peeling off the spiked gloves he tossed them. Turning off the stove he washed his hands thoroughly. Grabbing two pairs of clean gloves he waited for the water to cool down so he could plunge his hands in it and take out the needle and thread. With one hand in a glove and another free, he plunges the free one into the water. Grabbing the thread and needle. He passes it off to the gloves hand and heads into the living room again.

 

Setting a glove down Owen transfers the needle and thread to the glove. Shaking off excess water the peaks of the other gloves and puts the remaining gloves on. Threading the needle he returns to Curt and notes that the gauze has bled through he winces and takes it off and trashes it. Using some more rubbing alcohol. Owen begins to stitch up Curt.

 

It’s a tedious process but finally, it’s over. Shoulders sagging in relief once he’s through Owen starts cleaning the mess up. Cleaning his hands again. He goes there shared bedroom and finds a clean shirt for Curt. Easing it on the other. Owen sits down on a chair and leans back. Closing his eyes he exhales. It was going to be a long night. Finally, at around two in a morning (once he was sure Curt was going to be okay) Owen falls asleep. 

 

Curt wake up and he hisses. Stretching upwards there’s an unpleasant tightness in his stomach and he glances down. For a second he’s confused and then he remembers. He wants to jerk upwards but he doesn’t trust himself. Instead, with a shaky hand, he pulls up the shirt. He’s stitched up and he exhales slowly. Bringing the shirt down he glances over and spots Owen. He’s asleep on the chair and Curt exhales. It’s okay, it’s okay. He thinks. Over and over to himself. 

 

Swinging his legs off of the coach he stumbles up like a foal. Noting that it’s roughly noon. He stumbles into the kitchen. He would have to make breakfast, well, lunch but it would be breakfast for lunch. They’d have to check in with agencies soon but that could wait.

 

“Well, mama lets see how well I can actually cook.” He says under his breath.

 

Owen wakes up to the smell of bacon and he blinked owlishly. Bacon? What on earth? Glancing over to Curt he finds the other missing immediately standing he creeps to the kitchen and finds that its Curt who was in the kitchen. A choked sob leaves his mouth. Surging forward he wraps his arms tightly around Owen’s back and buried his face into the other's hair inhaling his scent. 

 

“You're okay. You're okay.” He chants over and over like a mantra to the other. Curt nods his head. Curt gives him a roguish smile. 

 

“Course I am,” Then turning serious he turns to face Owen and wraps his arms tightly around Owen.

 

“No thanks to you. I mean I’m still going to have to get to the medbay when we get back but you kept me alive. I’m standing right here right now.” Owen closes his eyes and smiles softly. Curt, never one to like heavy moods breaks it.

 

“Your a pretty damn god surgeon. Why didn’t you go into that?” 

 

“Wouldn’t have met you otherwise.” Snarks Owen back. Curt gives a slight giggle and flushed but quickly slams his hand to his mouth.

 

“That didn’t happen.”

 

“Sure love.”

 

“MEGA! CARVOUR! WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK IS GOING ON?!” Cynthia hissed angrily. Curt and Owen exchanged worried glances.

 

“I think we forgot to check in.” 

 

After getting thoroughly chewed out by both of their bosses and explaining Curt’s injury. In which Cynthia had told Curt in no uncertain terms that had soon as they touched English souls he was going to MI6 to get an actually doctor to check it out. They both left the room.

 

“Could have worse.” Owen nods his head in agreement. Then he frowns. 

 

“I think we’ll have to eat on the plane.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because the food burnt.”

 

“SHIT!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finished! All grammar mistakes are mine! So sorry about that! I’m proud of this actually (despite the shoddy medical knowledge)
> 
> Anyway! Check me out on these websites and maybe send in requests for something? Also, I made a Spies Are Forever Discord! So maybe hit that up ;)
> 
> Tumblr: a-deliciouslyfadingcollection  
> Email: asher9kline@gmail.com  
> Discord: a-deliciouslyfadungcollection#8898
> 
> Peace out Ladies, Lords, and non-binary royalty! 💜🥰


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